


Say My Name

by starvonnie



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Fantasizing, Forced Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation, Self-Servicing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starvonnie/pseuds/starvonnie
Summary: Rodimus finds out through the grapevine that Thunderclash has feelings for him, so he prepares him a little surprise to let him know exactly how he feels.  Poor Thunderclash walks in on him fragging Megatron.





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Why](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866146) by [Dorksidefiker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorksidefiker/pseuds/Dorksidefiker). 



Rodimus wanted to meet him.

 _Privately_.

Not only did Rodimus want to meet with him _at all_ , but _privately_.  That could only mean one of two things: either their feelings were about to become mutual, or he wanted to yell at him the things Ultra Magnus wouldn't let him yell in public.  The sad thing?  Thunderclash would be happy either way.  Because he was going to have some alone time with Rodimus.

He prayed for the former to be true, and he tried not to let the fact that Rodimus had given him his room code excite him too much.  Maybe he just didn't want to bother with standing and walking all the way across his room to let him in.  But his spark fed him deluded thoughts that had Rodimus laying on his side on his berth, the room dimly lit by candlelight, and his lustful optics would slowly pan up his frame until they found his face, and then he would smile.

 _"What are you waiting for?"_  he would say. 

Thunderclash would rush over to him and take him up in his arms and proclaim his undying love for him and Rodimus would giggle and kiss him and nothing would ever been wrong ever again.  They'd demote Megatron and he would become Rodimus' new co-captain, and together they would find the Knights of Cybertron and finally put that tyrant to justice.  They would return to Cybertron as heroes, and then announce that they had become conjunx, and the masses would cheer for their union, and they would kiss for all of Cybertron to see before Thunderclash carried him off to do things meant only for his optics.

He became so lost in his fantasy that he only realized he's passed Rodimus' door when he came to the end of the hallway.  Shaking the fog from his helm, he retraced his steps while pulling up the text message Rodimus had sent him.

1-5-3-6.  His room code.  For Rodimus' room.  All he had to do was enter that into the keypad, and it would bring him to Rodimus.

He stopped before the door, took a deep ventilation, and punched in the code as he exvented.  As the door slid open, he regretted not bringing him some gift.  Even a bottle of engex would have done, if for nothing else than to thank him for his hospitality, though he would have hoped to enjoy the gift with him.

What he found beyond the door, however, was nothing like his fantasy.

The lights were fully on, for one, which meant he saw everything.  The broad silver shoulders.  The muzzle mounted on his back.  His hands on either side of Rodimus, trapping him.  And worst of all, the black hips thrusting his spike deep inside of Rodimus' valve.

_Megatron!?_

Their newest Autobot grunted as he fragged Rodimus, who had his optics closed, moaning unabashedly as Megatron, the scourge of Cybertron, fragged him.  Thunderclash wished he could tell himself that he was dreaming, but there was no way his processor could have imagined the way these two would smell when they came together.  It wasn't _bad_ , nothing with Rodimus in it could ever be completely terrible, but it was so pungent in its sultry musk that Thunderclash knew it would hang around in his olfactory sensors for weeks to come.

He just stared, mouth agape, wondering what they hell to say or if he should even say anything.  He should have immediately closed the door and run to Chromedome's room to beg him to delete what would soon be a horrible memory from his processor, but he was frozen in place.

Thunderclash just stood and watched as Megatron touched Rodimus.  _His_ Rodimus.  The hands that had killed countless life forms fell upon the flaring biolights along his waist.  The mouth that had ordered the murders kissed Rodimus' supple neck, right where Thunderclash had imagined nuzzling his helm into.

Then Rodimus opened his optics, and he saw Thunderclash standing in the doorway, _watching them_.  And he smiled.  A cruel smile.  A smile that lead to a long and loud moan.

"Oh, Megatron!"  Rodimus dug his fingers into Megatron's back and shoulders.  "Yes, _harder_ , oh, Primus!"

Thunderclash turned and slammed the button to close the door, covering his face as he practically sprinted back through the ship.  He avoided all optic contact and ignored anyone who tried to greet him, hoping that they didn't see the mortified redness on his face.  He didn't stop until he was behind his own closed door, and then he sank down to the floor on the wall just beside it.

Why him?  Why, of all mechs, did it have to be _Megatron?_   Thunderclash could have handled anyone else--could have _understood_ anyone else--but Megatron?  He would have rather seen him fragging _Starscream_. 

He couldn't actually _like_ Megatron, though, right?  He'd tried to kill him, and he'd successfully killed countless of his friends and comrades!  He prayed that this was just something he'd done to intentionally hurt him.  The thought that Rodimus might actually care for Megatron could taint the entire image he had of him.

He almost wished he knew.  Then maybe he could stop feeling this way.

 _"Oh, Megatron!"_ It kept running through his processor, refusing to be forgotten.  But that wasn't the worst of it.  The worst and most disgusting part of it all was his cooling fans cycling on high and his spike pressing insistently against its cover.  Even with the shame radiating out through his field, he let it pressurize, his hand not hesitating even one moment to meet it.

If only it hadn't been Megatron's name leaving his lips, Rodimus moaning would have been the hottest thing Thunderclash could've hoped to hear.  If only he could disentangle Megatron from such an erotic sight.  If only he could isolate the pleasured sounds Rodimus had made to build his own scene to self-service to.

If only he could stop loving and lusting after Rodimus.

Thunderclash slowly stroked his spike, rubbing its head with his thumb every time he reached the top.  He bit a knuckle on his other hand to keep his own moan in as he saw Rodimus writhing on his berth.

 _"Oh, Megatron_ ," he heard Rodimus moan again.

He'd heard him speak enough.  He could imagine his own name there.  This wasn't the first time he'd fantasized about fragging someone else.  Of course... he'd usually gotten with them, in the end.  Come to think of it, Rodimus was the first bot who's feelings weren't mutual.  He was the first mech who had hated him _period_.  Or at least the first Autobot.

Okay.  Focus.  He's beneath you, with his legs wrapped around your waist and his arms thrown up over his helm.  He wants you.  He's dripping wet.  His lubricants are getting all over your plating and you don't care one bit.  In fact, you _love_ it.  You want his scent to get caught in your seams so that you can smell him even when he's not there.  You want him to leave scratches on your back and bite marks on your shoulders.  You want to leave blue and red paint transfers on him so everyone will know he's yours, and you want the red and orange of his frame to claim you, as well. 

You want to find his hand among the rumpled sheets.  You want to intertwine your fingers through his.  You want to stoop down to kiss him.  Deeply.  Passionately.  You want to feel his ventilations tickle your face.  You want to hear his quiet moans right by your audial.  The sounds made just for you.

Thunderclash made a small, pleasured noise as he stroked his spike along to the same rhythm he'd seen them taking.  Slow, but not teasingly so.  Languid in that they had nowhere to be and wanted to enjoy every single moment of this frag.

Afterwards, Thunderclash would roll off of Rodimus, but immediately pull him close.  He'd thread his fingers through his delightfully responsive finials as Rodimus tucked his helm into the crook of his neck.  They'd both be panting, slightly, in the aftermath.  Still a little wet and sticky, but much too tired to do anything about it, yet.  And hey, maybe they'd go for round two.  Rodimus seemed like the insatiable kind.

But after that.  After the little Prime had had his fill and was weak with bliss, Thunderclash would tell him how much he loved him, and Rodimus would smile the kind of smile that only Rodimus could, and he would say that he loved him, too.  How hadn't he noticed?  He only pretends to hate the ones he loves because he's too afraid of being rejected.

Yeah.  Yeah, that was it.

Thunderclash squeezed his spike harder, imagining the tight fit of Rodimus' valve.  Not too tight, though.  Not uncomfortably so--or worse, _painfully_ \--no.  Just enough to give him that almost-too-much feeling.

The perfect fit.

Now, to put his name in place of-- _Primus_ , if he could stop hearing his name in Rodimus' pleasured voice.  He wondered if it was possible to have a partial memory wipe.  Just that one blip in time.  The one word.  The one name.

 _"Megatron!"_ he heard Rodimus practically _screaming_ it!

Thunderclash stopped when he felt his overload fast approaching.  He hadn't even gotten to the fantasy yet and he wasn't about to climax with _Megatron_ on the processor.

He closed his optics and let his helm come to rest on the wall and put his hands on the floor on either side of him. 

Alright, if he couldn't recreate a scene, he'd just have to remember an actual memory.  Easy enough.

 _"Oh great," Rodimus muttered under his ventilations.  With mock happiness slapped across his face and his voice thick with sarcasm, he announced, "Hey, everyone, the Great Autobot Hero_ Thunderclash _has graced the bridge with his presence!"_

Rodimus putting his hands on his hips was crystal clear in Thunderclash's memory.  He replayed it in slow motion in his mind, hypnotized by the fluid shift of his hips as he stuck one side out farther than the other.  Truth be told, he couldn't quite remember how annoyed his face had looked then.  He only knew he'd be annoyed because that was his base emotion whenever Thunderclash got near him.  He'd grown accustom to watching him from afar.  There he saw the true Rodimus; the always smiling, optimistic, effervescent Rodimus.  Adversity couldn't stop this mech.  Nothing could stop this mech.

A slideshow of far-off Rodimi found him and made his spark race and his tank bubble in that delightfully uncomfortable way.  In both the past and the present, an almost pained smile found his face.  A smile as familiar as ventilating. 

Back in his close encounter, he still had that smile, but it wasn't endearing to Rodimus, oh no.

 _"So should I just hand the keys to the_ Lost Light _over to him now or...?" Rodimus sarcastically asked Ultra Magnus, who frowned at him.  "Oh, that's right... you all thought Megatron should take care of them, instead.  With him and Thunderclash on board, do we even need other Autobots?"_

_"Ignore him, Thunderclash," Ultra Magnus said, stepping between him and the object of his affection.  He held out his hand and Thunderclash shook it.  "We're glad you've decided to come aboard."_

_"Well, we_ are _after the same goal, it would be foolish to not pool our resources."_

_He heard Rodimus scoff from behind Ultra Magnus, and then saw him skulk off to the captain's office._

And that was the most pleasant of their face-to-face encounters.  Not much to work with.

Alright.  He could put his name in Megatron's place.  He could.  He _would_.

  _"Oh_ , Thunderclash _."_

That wasn't quite right.  He sounded... annoyed.

Thunderclash pumped his spike faster, squeezing his optics shut.  He could hear his pleasured moans as clear as day.  He could practically see his flame-coloured frame rocking beneath him, his frame dripping with condensation as his plump and soaked valve welcomed his spike as warmly as an old friend.

_"Oh, Thunderclash."_

... No, that was still off.  It was forced.  Like the way he said his name after the third reprimand from an authority figure.

He'd never even said his name with a neutral tone, had he?

Thunderclash laughed.  Rodimus?  Neutral?  About _anything?_   He loved him _because_ he was so passionate about everything, not in spite of it!  He didn't like anything, he either loved it or was utterly disinterested.  He didn't dislike anything, either, he _loathed_ things.  So maybe, just maybe, this passionate loathing could morph into a passionate love.  He had to hold onto this hope, however slim.  He'd go crazy otherwise.

At the mere idea of requited love, Thunderclash overloaded.  He arched off of the wall, transfluid spurting onto the floor and dripping down his hand, while the other one clawed marks into the floor.

The moment the bliss of overload fled his frame, he covered his face in shame.

He was in _way_ too deep.


End file.
